Used to be, when someone said they couldn't sleep, I frankly thought they needed their head examined. Just lay down and go to sleep, for heaven's sake. My sleeping's always been rather like a bear in hibernation (except when babies were involved, where somehow I became the Mama Ninja. I could hear a baby sneeze at 50 paces). Then something happened to me. I'm not sure what, but maybe it's got something to do with hormones and stress, too much barbecue, or too many work scenarios to fit in during the day. I could go to sleep for a little while, then 3:00 a.m. would come and my brain would wake up like the rooster had just crowed. I'd lay there and kick around the covers, but finally would just get up so as not to wake Papa Bear. We love each other, but are definitely from two different planets. He's from the one where you wake up like a jack-in-the-box. He said that showers are like caffeine, and if I happen to come across him during that period of time, he's full of questions, comments and kisses. Insanity. Because I'd just as soon dig a hole and crawl down into the deep, dark earth with the moles right about then. On my planet, we start really living about 10:00 p.m. and that's a perfect time to clean, paint the house or draw a masterpiece.
I digress. I started not being able to sleep. And nobody wants to hear you walking around the house or painting things in the middle of the night. I got a lot of computer work done, pondered the fate of the universe, prayed for people, but even the dog looked at me like I had lost my mind. Something had to be done.
I started acquiring sleep aids. There's all kinds of gadgets for that. It began with the sheets. A dear client asked me if I had ever heard of Peacock Alley. I said I think that's around the corner from me, but no, that might be Chicken Alley. She said my life was about to change, and bought me a set of sheets from those folks...bamboo sheets that cost an ungodly amount of money. She said they'd keep me cool. While Ken was helping me put them on the bed, he commented that we were in trouble. I asked why and he surmised that these things were nothing like our Walmart sheets and we were going to have to go ahead and buy another set, so we'd never have to be without them. So, in pursuit of scientific solutions, I bought another set, along with their special blanket and pillowcases. When that didn't help enough, I bought this humongously ridiculous pillow that was shaped like a big wedge, and had a hole in it for your arm so it wouldn't go numb. It also had a big body pillow so you could keep your hips aligned. It was wonderfully comfy, but still no cigar. What followed were more additions to these expensive sleep aids: a weighted blanket (blissful), CBD oil (don't tell my Mama), a king-sized bed with all the trappings (where did my husband go in all that acreage?), a new mattress, and finally, a sleep study and honkin' CPAP machine (okay, now we're broke). Cha-ching. The cherry on top of all that was a sermon. Yes, a sermon. My pastor preached about Christ's first miracle, turning water into wine. He spoke about big ole' cisterns full of water and how He turned them into the best wine and they were like bustin' out with it. Running over. How Jesus' love for me is like that...way more than you can imagine.
So here is how it goes, after a couple of years and much travail: I curl up in my warm nest, blessed and thankful (extra thanks for the props, Lord), and I think about that love overflowing to my heart. I'm sleeping like a baby now. All those gadgets are wonderful and helpful, but I'm pretty sure it's the cisterns that take the day. Or rather, the night.
No comments:
Post a Comment